


Ecclesiastes 3

by Spn_kink_sock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Dean, Alpha to Omega transition, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Dysphoria, M/M, Omega Dean, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-25 12:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spn_kink_sock/pseuds/Spn_kink_sock
Summary: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heavenAn unfinished fill I started for the kink meme, so I thought I would post it here. Comments keep me writing! It’s what your writers live for.https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/136765.html?thread=45239357#t45239357The original prompt (edited for length): In a non-hunting ABO AU Dean's always worked manly jobs. He's comfortable with his Alpha body and lifestyle. His father was always fixated on having Alpha sons.That said, a designation can change. Many things can trigger a chance in designation.Dean notices he's losing muscle mass and feels weak some days for no reason. He goes to a clinic where they tell him he's transitioning to Omega and there's nothing he can do about it.Dean does *not* handle the transition well. The only thing that gets Dean through it all is Dr. Novak. Should end with Dean and Cas together.





	1. Chapter 1

The first hint Dean had that something was going wrong was how his alcohol tolerance just went to shit. He was out at the bar with the guys, just having a few after his long shift at the firehouse had ended. Four beers should have felt like nothing, but his head was swimming and his mouth was running like it belonged to someone else. They’d been talking about the sudden upswing in Omega transitions- a normal response to a population shift that had led to less natural Omegas and women being born. 

And Dean found himself saying, “Well, you know what my dad always said, a man finds himself turning into an O, it just means he was a bitch deep down inside all along. I think you find yourself turning into an O, you should just shut up, quit whining and handle that shit, you know?”

Then, because it seemed like a good idea at the time, he swigged down the last of his beer and a whiskey chaser. He didn’t remember very much after that, not until he woke the next morning in his own bed, on top of the covers with boots still on and vow on his lips to never drink that much again. Thank God he could count on his buds to get him home safe.

***

Not long after that was when he noticed that his work was getting harder. His gear, not light and easy at any time, felt like a ton of bricks. The basic kit was about forty pounds, but by the time you added the radio, the breathing tank, the ax, and the radio, it was closer to seventy-five. The hoses he had to haul were another eighty on top of that. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it still, but he felt as limp as cooked noodles after an alarm, even if he didn’t have a fire to fight. His legs freaking trembled. His weight was down too, about a good fifteen pounds, all of it seemingly melting off his shoulders. Worse than that, his lower belly and hips ached all the fucking time. 

Afraid he was sick, fearing in his gut it was cancer, he made an appointment with a doctor. His Grandpa Henry died of cancer when Dean was a little kid. Cancer was genetic, wasn’t it? He couldn’t bear the thought of going to Dr. Singer, who’d been his family’s doctor for as long as Dean could remember, more family friend and uncle than doctor. He went to that new clinic, just outside town.

The doc wore cowboy boots with his white coat and was kind of short for an Alpha but walked with that unmistakable Alpha confidence, kind of blond, with a scruffy beard. 

“So, you’re Dean. Call me Doctor Gabe. Chart says you’re here because you’ve lost weight and muscle strength.”

“And my gut aches all the time. Down here,” Dean said, touching his lower belly. They’d already gotten him into the exam gown, taken his height, weight and vitals. The nurse was no nonsense and not a bit of warmth to her. He’d found himself missing Missouri, Dr. Singer’s long time nurse. 

“Hmm,” Doctor Gabe looked at the chart again. “We’re going to need some blood work to be sure, but there’s one common explanation for these symptoms. How much would you say you weighed six months ago?”

“At my work physical last year I was 192 pounds.”

Dean swallowed hard as he thought about. He’d lost a lot more than he thought. Just moments ago, he’d clocked in on the doctor’s scale at 162. In three months, he’d lost about 30 pounds and it wasn’t like he’d been dieting. Due to department orders, food at the firehouse was pretty healthy, but when he wasn’t on his shift, he ate pretty much whatever he wanted with a heavy emphasis on double cheeseburgers and pie. 

“Any other symptoms? Anything unusual?”

“My alcohol tolerance has gone to shit. Like three or four beers and my head is spinning. It’s like I don’t even want to drink any more because of how it makes me feel.”

“And before, you were a heavy drinker?”

“You know how it is with Alphas, doc. Head out to the bar after work and its nine or ten before you can even feel it.”

The doc nodded and scribbled a few things on the chart. “Just one more question. Have you always had breasts or are those new?”

“What?” 

Dean touched his chest. He’d always had decent sized pecs, muscular and hard. Maybe he’d been unconsciously not seeing them, but now, they definitely weren’t pecs. They were tits. Bitch tits. They were soft, peaked out the front of the exam gown just a bit. They weren’t huge. They poked out rather than hanging under their weight. They were perky. 

“Son of a bitch.”

“So, I take it you hadn’t noticed yet. Well, if I could just have you lie back on the table.”

Dean did and the doc poked and prodded at his lower belly, touching him here and there. He felt Dean’s new breasts up, impersonally, clinically even. Then he asked Dean to put his feet on the stirrups, spread his legs and scoot down.

“That’s for chicks and Omegas,” he protested.

“Any anyone else whose perineum I need to get a look at,” the doc said.

“Perini-what?”

The doc sighed. “Your taint.”

Dean felt himself coloring up. No one touched him down there. Not even himself really, just enough to make sure he was fresh and clean. He complied though. This was a doctor asking and an Alpha. He wouldn’t ask for no good reason.

The touch of the doc’s hands just about caused him to fly off the table. It wasn’t painful but not quite not painful. It was just intense. Not sexy in the slightest but somehow, that seemed like it was just the context. 

“When was the last time you had intercourse as the penetrating partner?”

“Whoa there! I’m Alpha. I have never taken another knot up my junk.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” the doc said. “Ok. Let me put it another way. When was the last time you popped your knot?”

Dean had to think. It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk his way into any pussy he wanted, but it’d been kind of a dry spell for him since Lisa dumped him because she couldn’t deal with the long shifts at the firehouse and not knowing if he was in danger or not. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get pussy, it was that he hadn’t wanted it. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even jerked off in a while. 

“Maybe two months,” Dean said, a weird mix of shame and panic churning his gut suddenly. He was an Alpha and that shouldn’t happen. He should be popping one at least once a day. When he’d been a teen, he could go six, seven times a day. More maybe. He’d never had as much time as he’d wanted for jerking off, what with his part time job and all the chores he had to do for his dad.

“Ok. I have a pretty good sense of what we’re dealing with here. You can sit up. We’ve got a specialist here for these issues a couple of times a week and luckily, it’s one of his days. I’m going to check and see if Dr. Novak can see you today.”

“So, it’s cancer then,” Dean asked. “Cancer of my junk? Tell me, Doc. I have to know.”

“No, Dean, it’s not cancer. Hang tight. Someone will be with you in a moment.”

Dean cooled his jets, keeping a tight lid on the freak out he could feel rising in him. In his gut, like it was rising from the hidden place the doc had touched him just minutes ago. He sat on the edge of the table, gripping it tightly, like it would fly away if he didn’t hold it in place. It didn’t take long, maybe ten minutes before there was a knock on the door to the exam room. 

A second later, another doctor walked in. This one was taller than the first, with dark tousled hair that Dean had a confusing urge to run his fingers through. What was that about. Alphas didn’t run their fingers through other Alpha’s hair, not matter how thick and gorgeous. The doctor had a perfect amount of stubble, not a beard yet, but a flush of dark hair over his hard, sharp jawline. His eyes were a deep, almost electric blue. Dean found himself feeling all kinds of things he shouldn’t be feeling about another Alpha. Like wanting to button up the man’s shirt collar and straighten out the tie that had gotten undone and slightly twisted. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said. “I’m Castiel Novak. I’ve had a chance to look at your chart briefly. We’ll need to run the hormone levels by blood work to get a formal diagnosis, but the presentation of your symptoms is classic. You’re about a quarter of the way through transition to a new secondary gender, in this case, Omega.”

“I’m what?” Dean asked. He’d heard the words, but this couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Winchesters didn’t turn bitch. 

“You’re in the middle of transitioning to Omega.”

There it was. No getting around that. But he wasn’t going to go easy. 

“Well, stop it,” Dean snapped. “There’s got to be something you can do. Hormone treatments. There’s got to be something. Some kind of cure. I am not an Omega. I’m an Alpha.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. There is no cure. This is not an illness. It’s an inevitable biological process that is well started. Nothing we can do would stop it. Treating you with Alpha hormones at this point would be fatal. At best, if the heat cycles and mating process prove intractably traumatic to you, we could force an Omegapause, but that would drastically cut your life expectancy by as much as twenty years, maybe more.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“I understand this doesn’t sound like good news to you, but your best course right now is to embrace the natural process. As an Omega specialist, I’ve seen this process happen so many times and it’s a beautiful thing, to see an Omega revealed, not for me, but for the Omega. I’ve seen so many angry, unhappy former Alphas embrace their new life and become happy for the first time since their Alpha presentation in their teenage years.”

“No, I don’t want this. I have a good life as I am. I save people, pull them out of burning buildings. No way I can do that as an Omega. I don’t want to lose my knot.”

“I’m afraid you already have,” the doctor said.  
“One of the first symptoms of transition is the disappearance of the bulbus glandis. You indicated it had been two months since your last full erection and Dr. Loki indicated he could not feel the glandis when he examined you.”

The full horror of what was awaiting him struck like a boot to the gut. He’d learned about transition in health class as a kid. Everyone did. His knot- gone. His cock due to shrink to the size of a finger, his balls like little marbles, only there for hormone production. Some Omegas, the balls retracted into the body completely. This weight he’d lost already? It was just the start. Omegas were delicate, more like a woman than a man. The worst though, he’d grow a pussy and all the internal junk associated with it. 

“No, no way,” Dean said. “This isn’t going to happen. I’m an Alpha. Period.”

Dean hopped off the table and started dressing before Doc Novak could say another word. He winced as he pulled his t-shirt down, the cotton rough on his crazyily sensitive nipples. What was worse though was how much he was aware of his newly puffy tits though. They must be nearly a b cup already and he hadn’t even noticed them before. He yanked his flannel on though, concealing the new breasts effectively. Without even allowing the doc another word, Dean stormed out of the clinic. 

***

It wasn’t long before he found himself at the bar. Though Benny, the usual bartender, looked doubtful, he hadn’t questioned Dean’s order to have the bottle put on the bar in front of him, not when Dean had added a fifty to the hundred he’d started with. 

“You be careful, brother,” Benny said, finally, as he reluctantly pushed a bottle of the worst whiskey and a glass in front of Dean. “You were quite the sight the other night. Just about poured you into that cab. You could hardly put one foot in front of the other.”

Dean didn’t care. He was already pouring a shot down his throat, the cheap booze burning his insides. He followed it quickly with another and then another. Oblivion shouldn’t take him long to reach.

***

He woke in a hospital bed.

 

***

hey folks! Remember, kudos are love and comments keep your writers writing!


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know for sure. There was something about the way the mattress felt under him. That annoying pinch on his arm could only be an IV. And Sam was here in the room. Dean could tell by the smell of him, somehow more intensely Alpha than he remembered. His throat was sore. Strike that. His throat was on fire. Given how much he’d had, it wasn’t unlikely that they’d pumped his stomach.

He sort of vaguely remembered staggering out into the street after getting himself outside of the better part of that bottle of cheap whiskey. The ambulance, that he kind of remembered. Of course it was called out from his station, he remembered, mortified. So he knew the EMTs. He wondered if this little episode would get him a good talking to by Chief Hanscum. Probably. Sam, too, was bound to have a lot to say on the matter. Dean groaned and opened his eyes, not sure he was ready to deal with a pissed off Sam.

“Dean,” Sam said. He was sitting in the chair next to the bed, looking wiped, like he’d been sitting in it all night. Maybe he had. “My God, Dean. You can’t do this any more. You were slipping into a coma by the time you got here. You nearly died.”

“Yeah, well maybe I should have,” Dean said, the words slipping out of his lips. He hadn’t meant to say them, but it wasn’t not true. He wasn’t sure he wanted to live as an Omega. 

“Don’t say that. I know the change is hard, but it isn’t the end your life. It’s just another, different part of it.”

“So, they told you.” 

Dean wasn’t surprised. Sam was his medical proxy. Dean knew there was always a chance, once day, something might happen in a fire, the kind of thing that would leave him a husk on a hospital bed. He couldn’t imagine making his mom or dad have to be the one to pull the plug on him. So he’d asked Sam. 

“Yeah, I mean, I was sort of wondering for a while because your smell was changing, but they did the blood tests while you were sleeping it off and you’ve got a formal diagnosis.”

“You knew and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not an easy conversation to have. Especially with you. You really swallowed all of that toxic Alpha bullshit Dad is always spouting.”

“Fuck. Dad,” Dean’s stomach dropped a little at the thought of what his father was going to say. “Does he know yet?”

“The hospital didn’t know I’m your proxy. They called mom and dad first. Look, Mom is talking to Dad and I’ve told the staff he isn’t allowed in your room until I give the word. And once you check into the Center, you have total control over who gets to see you, so you can have a safe transition.”

“What do you mean, check into the Center?”

That’s what people did, of course. But he wasn’t people, he was Dean Winchester and he was going to figure this shit out somehow. There had to be something to stop it. Some black market drugs maybe. There had to be something. The idea that every single Alpha it happened to just gave up his knot and grew tits and a pussy peacefully was ridiculous. Or if it couldn’t be stopped, then maybe there was a way to still live his life as an Alpha. Fake scents and adjusting his work schedule so his heats naturally fell on his days off would go a long way towards that. 

“You’re scheduled to transfer to the Center later this afternoon,” Sam said, firmly, calmly in that way he had. “We were lucky. The Center right here in town has a room for you.”

“No way. You get to make decisions for me only when I can’t. That was the deal. Maybe I might have been unconscious last night, but I am awake now and I am deciding not to check into any kind of Center.”

“You have to, Dean,” Sam said. “After your little stunt last night, if you don’t go voluntarily, they’re going to put an involuntary hold on you. And then you don’t get to go to your choice of centers. You go to the big state Center down in Wichita. Trust me, you do not want that to happen. You do not want to end up in state guardianship.”

Sam had gone away to California for college, then law school, but he’d come back with this gorgeous, born as an Omega named Jesse and settled in to do Omega rights and advocacy. If anyone knew what could happen, it was Sam. If Sam said they would put a hold on him, they would. 

“Ok,” Dean said, shoving down the anger building in his gut, the fear. He would suck it up and do what Sam said. He trusted Sam. “Ok.”

Sam smiled for the first time since Dean had woken. “The Center in town is great. Best of its kind, really. You’d have to go to California or maybe the East Coast for better care. There’s this amazing doctor who runs it.”

Dean wondered. He suddenly pictured that Alpha doctor from the other day, the one with the amazing blue eyes and three day stubble. It couldn’t be, could it?

Seven hours later, head still aching, body feeling like he’d been tied into a sack then worked over with a baseball bat, Dean was discharged from the hospital. Sam had brought Dean fresh clothes, his own clothes, but it was like they’d belonged to someone else now. Either his body was changing faster than he thought, or he just hadn’t noticed that they didn’t fit any more. The jeans clung around his hips and thighs, but gaped at his waist. He was positively swimming in his shirts. Even his boots didn’t fit any more, a size or more too big now. 

“We’ll go shopping soon,” Sam said. “Get you clothes that fit. Jess sent along a pair of his jeans just in case. It looks like they should fit you.”

And fucking hell. They did. It looked like he was kind of poured into them, but they were just so much more comfortable than his old pair that Dean could have cried. The fabric was different too. Still denim, but stretchy and thinner, like they were meant to be worn this tight. So Dean walked out of the hospital in his brother in law’s jeans and a t-shirt that hung from his shoulders like a dress. It didn’t matter though. He was just going into a different hospital. 

Sam’s Charger got them across town quickly and they were pulling up to a gate set into a brick wall. The Center had been the Hovaness mansion once, the nicest private house in the town. The estate had taken up a whole city block. The Hovaness family had died down to one, old spinster Omega, who had apparently left it to the foundation that build the Center. That’s what Sam had told him on the way. 

It wasn’t what Dean had been expecting. He thought it would more institutional. It was just a house. A big ass house, fancier than any Dean had been in ever, but just a house. The lawns around were lush, the landscaping simple, but well tended to. There was a patio to the side with a couple of people lounging in the sun. It didn’t look so bad. Didn’t look like the kind of place that would strip away his last shred of Alpha dignity and turn him into someone’s bitch, mated off and ready to get knocked up.

He found himself wondering if he could make a run for it, but he swallowed hard. He promised Sam he would do this. The gate opened and Sam pulled up the circular drive way to the Porte cochere.

The sign, in engraved letters on a brass sign on the only flat part of the elaborately carved door, announced that this was the St. Jensen’s Center for Transformative Care. The place looked more like one of those high class rehab places celebrities checked themselves into than an Omega center.

They were met at the door by Doc Novak. He wasn’t wearing his white coat this time, but he on had a slightly shabby beige raincoat, as if he were just heading out. The tie, it was still endearingly twisted around, in a different way than the day before. And the smell, it was overwhelmingly Alpha suddenly. Why hadn’t Dean noticed how strong Novak’s scent was yesterday?

Standing next to Doc Novak was another Alpha, one much shorter, also in a suit, but a black suit with a black shirt and a dark tie. This Alpha was fully bearded and looked something between bemused and pissed off. 

“Hello, Dean,” Novak said, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here. This is my colleague Dr. Fergus MacLeod.”

“Please, no need for the formality. I’m no physician,” the man said, with more than a hint of some smarmy Brit accent in his voice. “I’m the Center’s on staff psychologist. I lead the group sessions if you choose to take part and I’m available for one on one sessions as well.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Dean snapped. No way he was spilling his guts to this dude. 

“Well, they are voluntary, but I’m always available. Just ask Jo at the front desk if you would like to schedule a session. I will let Cas here settle you in.”

Then he turned away and headed down the hallway. Surprisingly, Sam took off after the short man, shouting, “Wait, Crowley!”

“Crowley?” Dean muttered.

“I’m given to understand it is some kind of nickname,” Novak said. “I don’t understand the reference. Your brother works closely with Dr. MacLeod on the board of the foundation. I’m very happy to welcome the brother of Sam Winchester to this center. Let me show you to your room. You look like you could do with some rest.”

Dean had to admit, he wasn’t feeling the greatest. Now that he’d moved around a little, the worst of the body aches were fading, but this was like the worst hangover in existance crossed with the flu, with a big dose of the constant gut-ache on top like a cherry.

“No, we won’t go up to your room yet,” Novak said. “You’re still in recovery from alcohol poisoning.”

He lightly pinched the skin on the back of Dean’s hand, which stood up like a little hill for several seconds before sinking back down. 

“You are quite dehydrated. Come with me.”

At the end of the hallway, there was an exam room, though not quite like any Dean had been in before. Yes, there was the expected metal table and equipment, but the walls weren’t clinical white- they were kind of a peach. Maybe even you could call it pink. In addition to the metal table, there was a plush sofa, velvet upholstery, with a fluffy throw blanket tossed onto the back. None of the usual medical posters, but some very fancy looking paintings decorated the walls. There was a fireplace, one that looked like it was used on the regular. Stained glass decorated the big windows, though Novak moved to pull shades down over them, dimming the room into cosiness.

Dean had never seen a doctor’s office that was cosy before. Even Doc Singer’s run down office wasn’t. Familiar, yes, cosy, no.

“Take a seat on the sofa, Dean,” Novak said. “I’d like to start a simple, saline IV. Getting more fluids into your body will help you feel much better.”

“I’m good. They gave me a couple bags at the hospital. I just need a couple of hours of lie down time. Maybe a glass or two of water and an aspirin. It’s just a hangover, Doc. I’ve had worse.”

Actually, he hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to admit any kind of weakness to this Alpha.

“The treatment you received at the hospital might have been sufficient if you weren’t also in transition. During transition, every condition is exacerbated. A simple cold could put you at severe risk for pneumonia. And just a hangover, as you call it, could be extremely debilitating. We will have to speak about your alcohol consumption soon as well.”

“Ok. Fine. If you insist. Hook me up,” Dean said, shoving his shirt sleeve up. In a moment, he was seated on the plush sofa, the doc poking at his elbow, looking for the right place to stick the needle, rubber strap around Dean’s upper arm. The doc’s touch was firm, but gentle and when he did push the needle in, it went in right the first time. Then the doc helped him lie down, covered him up with the blanket when Dean shivered, feeling the cold liquid as it rushed into his veins, chilling him from the inside. 

“You understand that you can no longer tolerate alcohol in the same way as an Alpha,” Novak started. “When your transition is complete, you should limit yourself to no more than two drinks a day. While you’re undergoing transition, I would recommend no alcholic beverages at all.”

Son of a bitch. Right when he most needed a drink.

“If you need supportive counseling for this, we also have another part time counselor who specializes in substance abuse issues. Dr. Barnes. She’s in two days a week, but she can come in sooner at request.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m not a drunk, you know,” Dean said. Not like his dad. He could be sober when he needed to. He wouldn’t make a good fireman if he couldn’t. 

“Dean, there is no weakness in needing counseling. We at the center are here only to make your transition have as little trauma as possible. This is a major life change and you will need help through it. Every one does.”

“I’m good. Really,” Dean said, even though he kind of really wasn’t, but he was already starting to feel a little less achey. 

“You should rest. Close your eyes if you like. I will be here,” Novak said. He took a seat in the matching chair and found some kind of medical journal that had been tucked between chair arm and seat cushion, as if he sat in that chair a lot. 

Dean did close his eyes. The effort of getting from the hospital to here on this comfy sofa had been about all he could do at that moment. He must have fallen asleep hard because he woke in a bed. The room was darkened, but Dean could tell it was nice. The mattress under him was firm but plush, like Lisa’s memory foam mattress. The blanket draped over him was like a warm cloud, a light weight down comforter maybe. The place smelled good. Like softly spicy, maybe a lower key version of the Alpha doctor. And Sam was in the room.

“Hey, sorry I darted off like that. It’s kind of hard to nail Crowley down to go over the budget reports and I had to take the opportunity. But I wanted to see you before I got going. So, how are you doing? Really.”

“Peachy,” Dean croaked. Sam handed him a glass of water. It was a plastic glass, but it was nice and heavy, like the kind you found in a fancy picnic set. Lisa had one of those fancy picnic sets. She used to like the kind of date where you took stupidly expensive cheese and other fussy foods and eat them on the ground in some park, bugs and dirt everywhere, when you could have had a nice cheeseburger indoors for much less money and effort. But she had liked to be romanced. Fuck, he thought with another gut punch. He wasn’t going to be doing the romancing any more. Some Alpha was going to be romancing him, eventually. 

“So, I thought I would come by tomorrow, take you to the store and get you enough clothes to get by. You’re probably going to have to replace your whole wardrobe eventually, but you don’t want to do that until you see what size you end up. Then we’ll head to my office and start getting your papers in order. I was able to get a court date for next week already so we’ll have to hustle.”

“Papers?”

“For your legal gender transition. You might want to think about if you want to change your name. Some Omegas do and it’s the easiest time to do it.”

Changing his name? Why would he do that? He’d have to give up the Winchester name when he was mated off, but at least he could keep his own first name. They couldn’t take that from him at least. It was going to be bad enough, being legally, officially stripped of Alpha status. 

“Who’s taking custody of me?” He asked. 

“No one, Dean. That’s one of those little victories we’ve won in the last couple of years that no one has seemed to notice. We got the law changed so Omegas are no longer automatically taken into guardianship. We’ll have to set up a financial conservatorship for your assets, but I’m pretty sure I can convince the judge that you don’t need a guardian. Ok, rest up. I’ve got to get back to Jess.”

***

In the morning, he noticed that he’d been changed into soft, knit pajamas. There was a robe draped over a nearby chair, light blue and just as soft as the pajamas. He looked around. The clothes he’d come in with, the plaid shirt, the jeans, they were hung in a wardrobe. There was another set of the pajamas hung up as well. A couple of drawers in the wardrobe were empty except for some underwear in white. The undergarments were a weird style sort of inbetween guy clothes and chick clothes. The short tank top like thing might be sort of like a bra, but it mostly just looked like it would be a tight, short tank top. The shorts were kind of like boxer briefs but there wasn’t the expected pouch for his junk. Well, he wouldn’t be needing that soon, would he? On closer inspection, the second set of pajamas in the closet weren’t. They were a typical Omega style outfit- loose, flowy pants in a silky fabric with a tight, knit top. No sleeves in this case. Omegas usually wore a drapey cardigan like thing too. 

Dean froze in front of the wardrobe, not able to dress himself. No way was he going to put on the Omega outfit that had been provided for him. He couldn’t make himself put on yesterday’s clothes either. They smelled. And it had been so uncomfortable, drowning in the yards of flannel. It was like a reminder of how his broad shoulders and strong body were melting away, his body betraying him.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t have long to mope about the state of his life. There was a knock at the door. Dean shuffled over to open the door, pausing long enough to grab the blue bathrobe and pull it on. 

It was the Alpha doctor on the other side of the door, dressed in the white coat again, so obviously making some kind of rounds. 

“Ah, good, you’re awake. I was hoping I could have you come down to the exam room again and we could a full examination.”

Dean’s stomach chose that moment to grumble, complaining he hadn’t eaten well since the day before yesterday. The food in the hospital would have been crapulent even if he hadn’t abused his guts with so much booze the day before. What he needed right now was a good post-hangover breakfast. Maybe a crap ton of bacon. 

“Maybe after some breakfast, Doc,” Dean said.

“Some of the blood tests I would like to have done need to be taken before you eat. It won’t be long. No need to get dressed. Unless you want. We’re not much on formality here at St. Jensen’s.”

So Dean shuffled down a long hallway, having found some slippers at the bottom of the wardrobe. Then the stairs, then back down the other long hallway. He couldn’t help but wonder who had carried up upstairs then all the way to the bedroom last night when he’d been fast asleep. Had it been Sam? Or the Alpha doctor? It was an mild churning in his gut, the thought that someone else was hauling him around now. He was supposed to be the guy that carried people out of buildings. He’d probably never be strong enough for that again. 

A skinny dude in pale green scrubs, not much older than a kid, with a mop of black hair waited for them down in the exam room. He was very obviously Omega, even if you couldn’t have smelled him.

“This is my nurse, Kevin,” Doc Novak said. “He will get you set up. I’ll be back in a moment. Kevin, this is Dean, St. Jensen’s newest patient. We’ll do the full intake exam this morning.”

Then Dean was left alone with Nurse Kevin, who handed him one of those open backed gowns that Dean seemed to be living in lately.

“If you have any questions, about what’s really going to happen to you, that’s what I’m here for,” Kevin said. “I’m the voice of experience with this. Doctor Novak and Crowley know their stuff, but it’s not the same as having been through it.”

“You’re Alpha? You were, I mean.”

“Popped my knot for the first time at fourteen and the last time at twenty-two,” Kevin said. 

It was hard to picture the kid as an Alpha. 

“It wasn’t how I planned my life happening, but you have to roll with the punches, you know? Saint Jensen’s pays better than the ER where I was working before my change. So, hop up on the table and I’ll get your blood pressure.”

“So you were a nurse, before?”

“Nursing school was a great place to meet the ladies, you know?”

“And now? You mated yet?”

The kid got a goofy grin and said, “Just don’t call me Mrs. Crowley to my face.”

Dean sniffed and realized he’d missed the scent of the bearded psychologist all over the Omega nurse. They were mated for sure.

 

The exam wasn’t too bad until he was asked to lie down and put his feet into the stirrups again. He flushed at the thought of Doc Novak looking at his taint, probably touching it too. It had been so sensitive at his first exam. And it was were his pussy was going to open up. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know this is difficult for you. I promise you that the examination will be as brief as I can make it and is very necessary.”

Dean wanted to snarl and snap. He didn’t care if it was necessary. He didn’t want anyone touching him there. But there was something to earnest and even trustworthy about the doctor. He grimaced and did as he was directed, legs spread wide, exposing himself in a way that he felt he never had before, not even his first exam, the one that had diagnosed him. He was rewarded by the gentlest of touches, along with a calm narrative of what the doc was doing and a simple version of why.

“As you may or may not remember from your school classes, the potential to become an Omega is in every Alpha. I’ll need to insert a finger here, in your rectum, to feel for the uterus. In a Alpha, it’s very vestigal, hardly noticeable. I need to feel how much it has grown and if there are any abnormalities. No, I don’t feel anything unusual and I’m feeling good signs of growth inside you. It is perhaps the size of a kiwi fruit now and will eventually grow to be about the size and shape of a pear. There, that’s all. Your condition is most satisfactory. Very much in line with the development I would expect. Over the next several weeks, you may noticed aches in your lower abdomen or even you might feel it in your hips or even thighs. This pain is from your bones shifting slightly. The Alpha-Omega pelvis is a marvel. The bones themselves don’t change but the ligaments are such that the pelvic inlet of an Alpha’s pelvis can expand enough to permit safe delivery of children.”

And that was all that Dean could handle at the moment. Babies. He hadn’t really thought about that yet, but that was what it was all about, wasn’t it? Mother Nature wanted more babies, so she went ahead and switched some of the baby batter makers so they could get a bun in the oven instead. 

“And we’re done here,” Dean said, slipping his feet off the stirrups and sitting up. The doc just barely had time to get out of the way.

He didn’t seem phased at all. 

“So, if you feel these aches, please let me know. I can prescribe something to help with the pain. Plus, I’m given to understand hot baths, in moderation, can help as well, and certain stretching exercises.”

Kevin piped up again. “I lead a yoga class every morning at seven. If you have pelvic pain, you definitely don’t want to miss it,”

“I am not taking yoga.”

 

“Dean, no one here is going to force you to take yoga or do anything else you would object to, but we are here to help you,” Doc Novak said. “All of this, the yoga, the counseling sessions, the center itself is here for you and others like you. You are understandably upset. Something you have taken as a bedrock personal truth about yourself is shifting under you like sand. I have yet to meet an Alpha who came to the center pleased to be changing to an Omega, but we have helped every Alpha who walked in our door adjust to the new truth about their life. Most have left much, much happier than they were before.”

“So, if its so great, turning into an Omega, why don’t you do it? See how happy it makes you, loosing your knot.”

“Just as there is no way to stop the inevitable process once it starts, there is no way to cause it at will. Science, despite much research, still has not narrowed down the exact triggers that start the process and why some turn and some do not. It remains one of the great mysteries.”

“Yeah, well, as mysteries go, this one sucks,” Dean said. He grabbed his pajamas from the chair he’d laid them on earlier and pulled them up under his gown. A moment or so later, he was as dressed as he could get. Pissed off and hungry, he stalked off in search of breakfast. 

It didn’t take too long to find the big room that served as the dining hall. Breakfast, such as it was, might make him feel better. Except it didn’t. The only thing was wasn’t rabbit food was the eggs. Lots of fruit. Yogurt. Toast with freaking avocado on it. The kind of stuff Sam liked. God knew how Sam kept his inner Alpha happy on this kind of stuff. 

“Where’s the bacon?” Dean muttered, looking at the selection. 

There was a seriously skinny dude working the line, passing out the chow. Like, beyond lanky and into the territory of skeletal, with an improbably prominent Adam’s apple. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, guy,” the server said. “But bacon and other fatty meats are a no-no, at least for now. Upset your tummy while you’re in transition. You must be Dean, the new resident. I’m Garth, the nutritionist and most of the rest of the kitchen staff to boot. Tell you what, I’ve got some turkey sausage in the back. I know life doesn’t seem worth living without bacon, but you would not be happy if you did.”

Dean had a fleeting urge to punch the guy in his pointy little face, but Garth was smiling, just so friendly and warm. It would be like kicking a puppy. 

“Fine. Just don’t feed me any of that yogurt,” Dean said. 

Sam showed up a few hours later with a bag full of clothes. “Jess picked out a few things for you. Dr. Novak said a trip to the mall might not be the best thing for you right now and Jess said it would probably be hard for you to find the kind of clothes you like in the Omega stores anyway.”

Jess hadn’t done too badly with the clothes. They weren’t mostly, typical Omega clothes. The tank tops and t-shirts were a lot tighter than Dean would have liked, clinging to his new breasts in a disconcerting way. The breasts were a lot more prominent that he was comfortable with, even after pulling one of the sports bra like things over them. The colors were too light and bright. Nothing tan or brown or dark blue. Or army green. There were more jeans at least, these pairs slightly bigger than Jesse’s borrowed pair. They just followed his developing curves. They weren’t poured over them. Dressed in the least objectionable blue and orange plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, he looked almost like himself.


	4. Chapter 4

The outer signs of transformation arrived first, almost shockingly so. The muscles melted off him at a pace he could hardly believe, taking pound and pounds of his weight with them. His breasts grew, just a little bit more, but enough that they jiggled and bounced if he moved too fast. His hips spread as his waist tightened. Every part of him grew softer, smaller. And that was just the first week. 

His court date got pushed back, first a week, then two. He was kind of glad. In a way, the legal stuff would make it even more real. He would be official, legally, at least, Omega from that point. Technically, he was still an Alpha, as far as the law considered him. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he did much. He could leave the grounds of St. Jensen’s for the day, over night even. He didn’t. Something stopped him. Not fear, he told himself. But it was like he didn’t know how to be in the world any more, at least not comfortably. He’d always strode out into the world with confidence, knowing who he was. Now, he just couldn’t. He was different. 

He slept a lot. Doc Novak told him this was normal. He took a lot of showers. His room had a private bathroom with a good shower. A steam shower with seemingly endless hot water. Showers were the only thing that felt good these days. That, and sleeping. But food didn’t satisfy him like it used to, maybe just because rabbit food was all he got. Even the music he had liked to listen to and the TV shows he had liked to watch seemed discordant and harsh. Nothing much felt right, so much so that he mentioned it to the doctor during one of his exams. 

“Dysphoria and depression, unfortunately, are very common during the middle weeks of transition. Your brain chemistry is changing and this can have a negative effect on normal brain chemistry. I can prescribe an antidepressant. This may help.”

“Nah, I’m good. I can get through this on my own.”

“Dean, there is no virtue in toughing this out. If you broke your leg, would reject crutches? Try and crawl around without assistance?”

“Those pills are for head cases. I’ll be fine. You just said, I’ll adjust eventually.

“Those pills are for people who need their brain chemistry adjusted, which would be you. Think of the antidepressant as a crutch for your brain. I’ll have one added to your daily medications.”

“But.”

“I’m your doctor, Dean, and I believe it would be medically advisable.”

There didn’t seem to be any getting out of it.

***

His court date, when it finally did come, a month or so after his diagnosis, was a hell of a shit show. He’d known from the day before, when Sam tried to take him out shopping that it would be and that he wasn’t ready to face the real world yet. Dean didn’t know why he couldn’t just wear one of the nicer shirts and his jeans to court. Sam was insistant that Dean had to get an Omega style suit, one of the kind with the loose pants and the short, tight jackets. Some of the pants were as flowy as a skirt. 

Then Dean had wandered away from the clothing store, not interested in the slightest which suit Sam would deem most suitable for court. Dean found himself in front of a music store, looking at a display of guitars in the window, wondering why he’d never taken up guitar when he’d always wanted to. His mind wasn’t on anything else at the moment, maybe wondering if he might have time now, seeing as his career was pretty much over.

He didn’t notice the Alpha who walked up to him. When the Alpha spoke, he didn’t pay attention, not figuring that the Alpha was talking to him. 

“You know, O, you’d look much prettier if you smiled at me,” the Alpha said. 

Dean startled when he realized the Alpha was talking to him. He wasn’t a real Omega, not yet, but there weren’t any others around. He ignored the man. Even if Dean were an Omega, what right did the man have to talk to him like that. It wasn’t like Dean had a hell of a lot to smile about these days, but hell if he should have to explain that to a total stranger.

“Oh, too good to talk to me, are you?” The Alpha snapped. He’d gone from importuning to rage in less than thirty seconds. 

“Just go away. I’m busy.”

The Alpha grabbed Dean by the upper arm and physically turned Dean to face him. Something like this would never have happened, even just weeks ago. Dean tried to resist being turned around. He tried to shove the dude’s hand off his arm, but it was like the guy was a wall and Dean’s hands just noodles. Doc Novak had told him that some of his strength would return once the transition was complete, but that muscle weakness was one of the unfortunate side effects of the change. He was pretty much at the mercy of this strange, angry Alpha.

“I was just trying to give you a compliment, O. You could be real pretty. The kind of O I love to sink my knot into.”

“Just get your fucking hands off me or I’m going to tear them off,” Dean threatened. He was pretty sure that was a threat he couldn’t follow through with, but he couldn’t not make it.

The Alpha just laughed. 

“Oh, one of the feisty ones. I like that. I could have a lot of fun with you.”

Then suddenly Sam was there, putting his body between the Alpha and Dean. Sam had been taller than Dean since seventeen, but now he seemed to tower over Dean. Sam hadn’t gone full on Alpha mode yet, but Dean could smell the change in scent. Sam’s smell got deeper, harsher. Like it had an undernote of brimstone or something. It was all part of the silent posturing game that every Alpha played with every other. Status determined by Alpha display, which included scent, but also posture, tone of voice. Dean had been very, very good at it once and now he seemed to be looking in at it from the outside. Sam was protecting him and that was infuriating. 

“You have until the count of three to take your hand off my brother,” he said, voice flat and even, but very, very serious. 

“Or what, you’ll take it off? I was just trying to have a conversation here. I don’t see it’s any of your business if I flirt with your little brother.”

Flirt? Is that what this idiot thought he was doing. And definitely an idiot, because you’d have to be an idiot to miss the obvious signs that Sam could be a very, very dangerous Alpha. The Alpha reek rising off him was all but smothering. It was like Dean could see the power vibrating off Sam. 

“Dean, did you want to have a conversation with this person?”

“No, Sam. I was just minding my own business, looking at the guitars,” Dean answered, even as he shoved down the miasma of shame at having to be defended by his baby brother and a big dose of anger at this Alpha, at the fact that he couldn’t defend himself, at his whole situation. At the fact he couldn’t even just stand at a window looking at guitars without some knot head telling him he wanted to put his knot in him. It felt like. Like that if Sam weren’t there to save him, he was about thirty seconds from being raped or something and that was like the bottom dropping out of everything.

“You heard him,” Sam said. “One.”

The knot head opened his mouth as if he was going to protest, but then Sam said, “Two.”

The Alpha took his hand off Dean, stalked away, muttering, “Choke on a dick, bitch.”

“Are you ok?” Sam asked him. The Alpha reek thinned out, then was gone just as quickly as it had come on.

“No,” Dean said. “I’m about as far from ok as I can get. I want to go back to St. Jensen’s, now.”

“We didn’t even buy you a suit.”

“I don’t care. I’m going now. I’ll walk back if I have to. We’re only half a mile from my house. I’ll get my car and drive back.”

“Dean, you can’t.”

“Omegas are allowed to drive. They haven’t taken that from me at least.”

“Dad took the Impala back and he sold it. I couldn’t stop him. I guess he never transferred the title into your name. We tried to talk him out of it.”

“Baby? He took Baby back?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. He’s making things more difficult than they have to be. That’s why you have to wear a suit to court. You have to look super together. The reason we’ve had so many continuances is because Dad found a lawyer and he’s trying to get your custody. And what should have been five minutes with the judge is turning into a full blown lawsuit.”

Dean just turned away, not even able to speak. He knew Dad wasn’t best pleased at the fact that his oldest Alpha son was turning into an Omega but he thought at least the man would have the decency to just leave him alone. It seemed like everywhere he turned, someone or some thing was trying to rip away his very personhood, just because he was becoming Omega. Before, it was like the ground was crumbling beneath him. Now it had fallen all away and he was tumbling down a huge cliff to some unseen danger below.

“Ok, ok,” Sam said, quickly catching up to him. “I’ll take you back to St. Jensen’s. I’ll figure out something for you to wear to court tomorrow. I’m sorry, Dean. I thought I could handle this for you smoothly, but it’s turned into this big mess.”

“Why does he even want my custody?” Dean asked. 

“I don’t know, but it can’t be for anything good. It won’t come to that. I promise. You have to pretty much prove that an Omega is a danger to himself before the law allows an Omega can be taken like that. C’mon, let’s go. I can still get you back to St. Jensen’s in time for lunch. I heard it’s burgers today.”

“Garth’s Mexicali style turkey burgers. Yummy,” Dean quipped. They didn’t actually suck, what with the salsa actually giving them some flavor, but he wasn’t about to admit that. And they couldn’t hold a candle to the even the worst diner’s double cheeseburger, made of actual dripping, greasy beef. 

He wouldn’t let Sam come in with him and skipped right over the dining room. He headed to his room and locked the door behind him. Not much of a lock. Doc Novak and a couple of other people had a master key, but he’d been told they tried never to use it. He’d stuck a package under his mattress as soon as he had gotten it this morning and he pulled it out now. Just a small brown padded mailer, discreet packaging, as promised on the website.

Dean hadn’t believed Doc Novak that there was no way to reverse this. There had to be, he’d been certain. Most of the websites he’d found agreed with Doc Novak but there were a handful that promised they could turn around an Omega change. Some seemed to think that environmental toxins were the cause of a change and if you could chelate those toxins out of the prospective Omega’s blood, the change would stop and eventually reverse. Other websites promised hormone therapies that would really work. They were outlawed in this country because of big government or something, so the pills came from out of the country. They’d been advertised as the cure that works so well that your doctor won’t tell you and the government didn’t want you to know. 

Of course he’d bought them. Now was the time to shut this shit down. 

For a couple of weeks, here at St. Jensen’s, things hadn’t seemed so bad. He’d been lead to believe that he would adjust, that he would get over this. But just a couple of hours out in the real world made it clear that his life, as it had been, was over because of this change shit. Some shitty knot head thought he could spout vile filth at Dean, just because he looked like an Omega now. His baby brother had thought nothing about just stepping in to defend Dean, when just weeks ago, Dean could have torn the head off that Alpha himself. Some judge tomorrow would have the power to turn him into a legal child again. Give him back to his father like he was chattel or something. The little amber vial of pills in the brown mailer could stop all that. He could go back to what he’d been before. 

He tore it open. There were about forty round white pills in the unlabeled vial. No instructions, no packing label, nothing. There wasn’t even a return address on the mailer. He remembered the warnings on the website about being very careful with the pills, that they were very strong. Take no more two a day, they said.

So he popped two in his mouth, swallowed them dry. 

He hid out in his room the rest of the day. He didn’t come out for dinner, but there was a deep ache in his gut by then, something that seemed very different than the pelvic pain he’d been suffering still. It radiated out to his whole body. He felt achey, hot, as if he had a fever. That must mean it was working, right? He curled up in his bed, trying to distract himself with music on his headphones. He wondered when he might start feeling a little more like himself again, like an Alpha, hoped his bitch tits might start shrinking first. 

At dark, a couple of hours after dinner time, there was a knock on the door. 

“Dean, are you in there?” Asked Novak. “I understand from Sam that you had an upsetting trip to the store, but you missed two meals in a row. That is not typical for you. Dean?”

The Alpha doctor waited a few more minutes. He was silent, but Dean could smell him still. 

“Dean, if you don’t answer me, I will have to unlock your door. You don’t have to let me in, but you do have to let me know you are all right in there.”

Dean started to get up, to walk across the room. He was going to open the door just enough to tell Novak to piss off to his face. He didn’t make it to the door. He didn’t make it to his feet. Standing up made his heart race and his head feel light. His knees buckled and he thought he was going to faint, but he just fell down, still conscious. He knocked a chair over on his way down and that knocked over a small stack of books, which fell to the floor with a noisy clatter.

The door was open before Dean could haul himself off the ground. Novak knelt next to Dean, easing him back down to the floor. He was touching Dean here and there, obviously examining him. 

“Did you take anything, Dean?” He asked. “Any pills other than what I’ve prescribed to you? You’re hot, skin clammy and you’re shaking. Tachycardia.”

“What? No, I’m fine. I didn’t take anything,” he said, then struggled against Novak because he really had to get to the bathroom. “You gotta let me up. I really gotta go. Gonna disgrace myself in a minute here.”

So Cas helped him to his feet and to get to the bathroom, seemed liable to hang around, until Dean said, “A little privacy, man. I got this.”

When his gut was done emptying itself into the toilet, at least for now, he cleaned up. Still feeling shaky and light headed, he let himself out of the bathroom. Doctor Novak was sitting in the now righted chair, holding up the amber pill bottle. “How many of these have you taken. It’s important I know.”

“What? Those are just vitamins.”

“If that’s what you were told, you have been dangerously misled. These are a generic form of pure Alpha hormones. I told you that taking Alpha hormones would be dangerous, possibly even fatal for an Omega in transition. Especially when that Omega is also taking certain anti-depressants. We need to get you to the emergency room. I don’t have what I need to treat the hyperthyroid storm you’ve set off in yourself by taking these Alpha hormones.”

“Not the hospital again,” Dean said. “No. I can’t. I have to be in court in the morning. It’s important.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I am well aware of the significance of the court appearance you were to have tomorrow, but if this goes untreated, your lungs will fill with fluid, you will enter congestive heart failure and you may possibly die.”

Dean let himself get taken off to the hospital. Again. 

He was given drugs in the emergency room, stuff they injected into an IV. Then he was back in a hospital bed. They monitored him for several hours. His heart slowed down. His fever dropped. He stopped feeling so shaky. Doctor Novak was with him the whole time, mostly. There were a few times he stepped out into the hallway, discussing Dean’s case with the hospital doctors. There was some discussion, muffled but loud enough for Dean to overhear, about whether Dean needed a three day hold, if taking the pills had counted as a suicide attempt. Doctor Novak was decidedly against this and argued, basically, that Dean had believed the pills would help him, that they were not an attempt at self harm, regardless of how mis-led Dean had been.

Eventually, in the early morning hours, as the sky was just starting to pink up in the room’s window, the hospital staff let them alone for a few hours. Dean was still hooked up to the machines monitoring his heart, blood pressure and so forth. They were starting to drop, but according to Cas, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Cas sat in the chair next to Dean’s bed and took the hand that wasn’t hooked up to the monitors.

“It’s okay to admit that you don’t got this,” Doctor Novak said. “You’re scared as hell. Everything is different, and as much as people like your brother are working on it, everything is worse for than it was before. I don’t deny that. But you can’t take those pills again or any herbal remedy you might find on the internet or in some book. I cannot emphasis this enough. Your change to Omega is inevitable. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you false hope at best or at worst knowingly selling you something that could be fatal to profit off your despair.”

“But the,”

“I have treated hundreds of cases of Omega transition personally and I am abreast of the leading edge of Omega transition research. Do you think you’re the first one to think that maybe you know something the best medical research doesn’t? That you can find some kind of prevention on a web page? That if there were something, anything, safe and effective, that could stop your transition, that I wouldn’t prescribe it in an instant, seeing how much you are suffering from this?”

Dean turned his head away. He wasn’t quite willing to admit defeat, but it seemed pretty conclusive that the pills he’d bought would kill him. A mere two had just about done it. His blood pressure had been so high when he first reached the hospital that they’d been afraid he might stroke out. 

“Please, Dean, I want you to promise me you won’t take so much as a vitamin pill without it being something I’ve prescribed. No supplements. No teas except for the ones we stock in the kitchen. None of those packaged drinks that are so called chelation therapy. Nothing. If you have a headache, come to me for an aspirin, at least until your transition is complete.”

What it really came down to at this moment, was did he trust this man? Part of him felt like if he stayed at St. Jensen’s and listened to Doctor Novak, it was drinking the kool-aid. It was admitting that there was nothing to do but accept. Nothing but become an Omega and try and be happy with that. Doctor Novak had been kinder than he had any reason to be. His voice was so urgent and earnest. His scent was strong and good. Like warm spice and the way the air smelled after a thunderstorm. No one liked to admit it, because it seemed so primitive, but you just kind of trusted someone who smelled good. Dean found this true in his experience. Someone who smelled off was just up to no good. Or not good for your peace of mind at least.

“Yeah, ok,” he said. “I promise.”

“Good. Thank you, Dean.”

Then they just sat in silence, watching the sky lighten through the window together, the start of a new day. Dean wondered if there was anything good about what was happening to him. No, he wasn’t at all happy about it, but most Omegas he knew seemed pretty happy. Or at least as happy or not as everyone else. Like they were just people living their lives. Part of him wished he could be happy that way, but his life, or what had been his life, was being a hero, saving people. There was no way he could be a fire man now and if he wasn’t that, what was he?

Sometime a little later in the morning, Sam came. He was dressed in his lawyer get up, complete with white shirt and tie. Dean was so quiet, maybe they thought he was asleep, because Doctor Novak and Sam didn’t move out into the hallway to talk, but just the other side of the room. 

“There’s no way he’s getting out in time to get to the court date?”

“He’ll be here at least until tomorrow,” Novak said. “His heart rate has slowed, the various thyroid levels are dropping, but his blood pressure is still worryingly high. I’m not certain your brother realizes how close to death he was. I never thought he would do this. He seemed like he was on the road to acceptance.”

“It’s how our dad raised us. Push the crap down and carry on. I don’t know, Cas. I know you kept him out of the psych ward, but maybe he needs more care than St. Jensen’s can give him. Maybe some forced therapy might be good for him.”

“No, I have never seen a case where time on a locked psychiatric ward has been helpful to an Omega in transition. An Omega in transition is not mentally ill, but their world has turned upside down on them. He needs to be back at the Center. St. Jensen’s will not fail him.”

“We might not have a choice. I don’t see how we can avoid Dean being placed in custody now. This kind of proves what my Dad is saying, that Dean is a danger to himself. The judge might not feel she has a choice and she’ll make him Dean’s guardian.”

“There is another choice. The foundation can act as guardian ad litem for Dean until such a time as he is no longer in danger. We’ve done it many times in the past. It’s not ideal, I’m sure, but it must be better than your father as Dean’s guardian. Didn’t you say he wanted to transfer Dean to the Brightstar Center?”

What was the Brightstar Center?

“Yeah, I think he was just threatening. I don’t want to think he’d really do that. No one should want to do that to someone they love. I mean, I think my Dad is a dick and misled but I don’t think he’d want to do that to Dean.”

What the hell was the Brightstar Center and why would’ve Dad want to send him there?

“Maybe I should try for Dean’s guardianship. He’d hate that, but maybe I have an edge because I already had his medical proxy.”

“No, as Dean’s doctor, I believe the best choice for him right now is a professional guardian ad litem through the foundation. That will surely have weight with the court.”

“We’ll try. I should go if I’m going to prepare for court. I’ve only got a couple of hours.”

Sam walked over to Dean’s hospital bed and laid a gentle hand on Dean’s forehead. He’d never have tried that shit before Dean started turning, but Dean wasn’t going to lie. It felt kind of good, especially as Sam’s scent washed over him. Funny how he’d never noticed what his brother smelled like until he started turning. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Sam said as Dean opened his eyes. “I just wanted you to not worry about court today. I’ve got your back.”

“What’s the Brightstar Center?”

“You heard? You know how in the movies, there’s always an evil twin? The Brightstar is the evil twin to St. Jensen’s. They’re run by the Church of Alpha the Redeemer, which should tell you all you need to know. Don’t worry about it. I won’t let it happen. Cas won’t let it happen. You’re in the care of St. Jensen’s and that means something to the court. I have to go. Just, focus on getting better, do what Cas says and don’t pull this shit ever again.”

Then Sam was gone leaving Dean to marinate in frustration and shame, wallowing at how helpless he felt. His Dad wanted to send him to a center run by the Church of Alpha the Redeemer? Dean felt betrayed even more deeply than when he’d heard Dad had sold the Impala. The Redeemers treated Omegas like dirt. Like slaves, property. They had their followers pushing for legislation to roll back every Omega right that had been won in the past century. You saw them out sometimes, with their Omegas. The Omegas were veiled from head to toe in black, a leash attached somewhere under the veils and not always to a collar at the neck. Those Omegas knelt at their Alphas feet and were utterly silent under the veil, either unable or not daring to talk in public. Dean wept at the thought that that was what his father would want for him. 

He had done everything, everything in his life right, the way he was supposed to and this was what he’d gotten. 

Doc Novak laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he cried, then took out a handkerchief and wiped Dean’s face. 

“It’s okay,” Doc Novak said. “I know this is awful for you. It feels awful because it is awful and it is okay for you to feel the way you do. You don’t have to be strong at this moment because we will be strong for you. Every protector needs to be protected sometimes. I heard something on this television show my brother made me walk, but it resonated with me. When you can’t run, you crawl, and when you can’t crawl, you find someone to carry you. Let us carry you for a little while, Dean, your brother and myself.”

It didn’t look like he had much choice in the matter right now.


	6. Chapter 6

Actually, Dean never did have his day in court though he heard about every time there was a hearing. His presence or even a statement about how he wanted the rest of his life to go on wasn’t apparently required by the court. It was hashed out in a couple of weeks though, because one afternoon Sam and Doc Novak introduced him to a ratty looking Alpha with blond hair and blue eyes who looked like he could be Doc Novak’s cousin. 

“Dean, this is Balthazar Roche, your court appointed guardian. Balthazar is an attorney with the foundation and thankfully, though its not much called for these days, he used do quite a lot of professional guardianship.”

Dean had been in the garden, at a table in the shade. He’d been reading. He did a lot of reading lately. TV was still almost painful to him and he had a lot of time since he wasn’t working any more. He put his book down as Doc Novak, Sam and this Balthazar dude took a place at the table. 

“I was never more happy to be put out of work as when Proposition 2012 passed,” Balthazar said. “But there is still a lot more work out there, unfortunately. I’m pleased I could help Sam Winchester’s brother though.”

“So, you’re what, like my owner, now?” Dean asked. He thought the hardest thing about all of this is he really wasn’t clear where Omegas stood in society, now that he was looking at it from the other side of the fence. Before, when he’d been Alpha, things seemed clear. You were born Omega or you turned Omega. You got mated. Your mate took care of you. You were your mate’s, period. He wouldn’t have said an Omega was a slave or anything to the Alpha but an Omega was definitely owned by the Alpha mate in a deep way. It had seemed right to him. That was part of why he’d been looking for a Beta wife rather than an Omega mate. He’d never wanted to be that responsible for another being. Now, he never wanted anyone to have that kind of hold over him. 

“No, no, not in the slightest,” Balthazar said. “Guardian. I’m here to see your best interests are looked out for, in the legal sense. I won’t have much to do with your day to day life. I may pop by every now and then to see how you’re doing. I’m often here on Foundation business anyway. But I know so long as you’re here at St. Jensen’s, you’ll be safe. Your assets were placed in a trust for you and I administer that trust. I’ll have an account set up that you that you can use for spending money. My policy has always been to be as hands off as possible. There are a few matters we should get decided while I’m here though. Your apartment.”

“What about my apartment?” Dean asked. He assumed it was just standing empty while he was at the center but eventually, he’d move back to it. It was his home even if it was nothing special. 

“The end of your lease is coming up and we need to decide if your trust should renew it for you or not. I will direct the trust to do so if that is your wish, but you should consider if it is the best allocation of your resources to pay for an apartment that will stand empty for several more months while you reside here at the center.”

It hadn’t occurred to Dean. He wasn’t working any more, so that meant no money coming in, right? He had some savings. He hadn’t been either frugal or money stupid, but he’d still been building a nest egg and it wouldn’t be enough to last him through more than a couple of months of unemployment. 

“I would recommend letting your apartment go, for now. You’re unlikely to be released from the center until your transition is complete, which might be months. For the moment, you’re on long term disability from your work. Once your transition is complete, there will be an evaluation to determine if you can continue with the fire department.”

“That’s pretty damn unlikely,” Dean said.

“I’ve spoken with your Chief Hanscum. She seems to believe another position might be found for you in the department, nothing active duty, but something administrative perhaps. But for the moment, long term disability is only half the pay of active duty. Your accounts will be depleted in six months if you continue to pay for an apartment you won’t be using.”

“Can we sublease it?” Dean asked. 

“I’ve been looking for a subletter since you went to the center, Dean,” Sam said. “I haven’t found any one. I think Balt is right and we should let the lease end and move you out. I can store your stuff at my place and if you’re ready to leave the center, you can stay with me and Jess for a bit until you get a mate.”

“I’m never living on my own again, am I?” Dean asked. 

“Unfortunately, though we are working hard to change our society, it is not safe for an Omega to live on their own,” Doc Novak said. He frowned, then laid his hand on top of Dean’s. “It is not your fault that you would not be safe alone and it is not right, but it is also common sense that you live where you will be safest.”

“Fine. Fine,” Dean said. “Shut it down. Move me out.”

It wasn’t fine. He thought maybe it would never be fine again, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

Then, he decided to ask Sam about something he’d been wondering about for a while. “Sam, why hasn’t Mom visited? I mean, I thought you said she was okay with things.”

“I asked her not to come. I think maybe okay with things isn’t really accurate. It’s not that she approved of Dad’s plans for you but she didn’t really speak out against them either. I just thought that if she’s going to back Dad’s bullshit up like that, you don’t really need her here right now. I just want you to only be around people who have your back a hundred percent.”

“You don’t have that right to tell me who I can and can’t see,” Dean said. 

“He’s right, Sam, you don’t,” Balthazar said. “If anyone does, it would be me, and I don’t believe it’s in his best interest that I or anyone else be a gatekeeper. Though, I might recommend you don’t see your father right now. He is quite the piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Sam.”

“Okay, I’ll call her and let her know you want to see her. Maybe you can meet her out somewhere. I’m not trying to be a gatekeeper here. But I don’t think she should come here. The center is a place where you should feel totally safe.”

“Good enough.”

***

She didn’t come though. He asked Sam about it. Sam said that she said she was thinking about it and would let him know. 

“You don’t understand, Dean. Hell, I don’t understand. He’s got her more under his thumb now that he ever did,” Sam had said. “She wouldn’t have put up with this from him when we were growing up. I don’t know what’s going on, but she said maybe it wasn’t a good idea right now.”


	7. Chapter 7

Days at the Center were easy. Nobody asked much of him. Nobody told him what to do. There were activities that he could have done, should he want to. He could have gone to group therapy. He didn’t. He could have gone to yoga. He didn’t. He mostly kept to himself, reading. 

His body ached a lot. He lost a lot of weight. The aches, he was told, were his bones literally changing, rearranging themselves. His pelvis, especially, was changing, but also his bone density, even his height to a small extent. He didn’t investigate too closely, but he knew things were changing down there, even more than they had. He knew he must have grown a pussy. The next time Doc Novak had done an exam down there, something had gone inside of him. He could feel it. Doc Novak had been explaining, step by step as he went. Dean had been blocking it out, just enduring the examination. He’d gritted his teeth until the hard instrument, whatever it had been, was withdrawn.

When Doc Novak said, “We should really talk about,” Dean had shut him up with an abrupt and final, “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Novak had said, “I understand. You are doing fine, Dean, and we will talk more in-depth about your health and anatomy when you are ready. It is a discussion you will have to have some time. Have you re-considered going to group therapy sessions? It may be helpful to discuss your life with others in your same situation.”

“Considered it. The answer is still no.”

“It’s just that considering your progress, your first heat might be coming in as soon as three or four months. I believe it is important that you learn about what will happen from a first hand source.”

“I know what happens during heats, Doc,” Dean said, inwardly shivering. That was one of those big, awful things he just didn’t want to think about. He shoved it down.

“You need more in depth information than can be learned from a high school health class and more accurate than can be gathered from pornography.”

“We are definitely not having this discussion now, when I’m in a dress with an open back and my taint is open to the breeze.”

Dean sat up, gathered up as much of his dignity as he had left and said, “Are you done? Because I am definitely done here.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dean started getting dressed, pulling the soft knit pants that were his default clothing choice these days on under his examination gown before ripping the offending garment off. He grabbed his bra and wasn’t that just humiliating enough, that he, Dean Winchester, owned a bra and it wasn’t some lacy thing he’d kept as a memento of a memorable evening with some Beta hottie. It was plain enough, a sports bra style thing, in black. It was just that if he didn’t wear it, he bounced around so much he was sore. He pulled the bra over his head, tucked everything where it was supposed to go, then pulled on his t-shirt.

“We’ll continue our discussion later,” Doc Novak said. “Have a good day. I understand Garth is serving Turkey Noodle Surprise again for lunch.”

The surprise, of course, was that it didn’t suck, Dean thought as he made his way back to his room, looking for his book and shoes. Despite the bra, his tits were a little tender and he groaned as he looked at himself in the mirror in his room. They were definitely getting a bit bigger. 

“Fuck, aren’t you ever going to stop?” He asked them, in the mirror, then felt stupid, because who talked to their own boobs? He could ask the question of his whole body though. When was this change going to stop? Maybe he might get a better handle on things if his body would just settle down and let him get used to it.

He made his way out to the garden, to his usual table in the shade, stopping by the kitchen for some tea, made from a Center approved tea bag, of course. 

After his stint in the hospital, the one that got him proven to be a danger to himself, he wasn’t going to try any cures bought on the internet. Not that part of him didn’t believe that there must be something, somewhere, out there that would stop a turning. He was starting to think though, that for himself, it was too late. The changes in his body seemed both drastic and permanent. Not so much the tits. He’d read about changed Omegas who got mastectomies and reconstructive surgeries because they couldn’t adjust to that part of it. Maybe he might do that later. The part that seemed too permanent was how he was pretty sure he now had a pussy and that was just wrong. Dean Winchester was supposed to eat pussies out, not own one.

He realized he’d been woolgathering, not reading, when Kevin brought out a tray for him and set it in front of him. It had a lot more of the salad and a lot less of the turkey casserole thing than Dean would have served himself. And there was broccoli. Dean Winchester did not do broccoli. There was, however, a dish of peach cobbler on the tray and cobbler, it was almost like pie.

“Hey, rough appointment today,” Kevin said. “I remember mine, the first time the doctor put a speculum in me and then I just had to face it, that my parts were permanently different. You’re lucky. Doctor Novak uses a plastic speculum.It’s a lot warmer and more comfortable than the metal one a lot of OM/Gyns like to use. My first full pelvic exam, the speculum was ice cold and hard. It pinched like hell.”

Dean shivered at the thought of some cold metal thing up inside his where the sun didn’t shine. “Sounds awful. You didn’t just kick that doc in the balls?”

“I was tempted,” Kevin said. “But I knew he was just trying to do his job.”

“I got it. Doc Novak is just trying to do his job too.”

“No, it’s not a job to Cas. It’s a calling,” Kevin said. “But that’s not really my point. My point is that I’ve been where you’ve been. And yeah, there are parts that are awful, but you know, there are also parts I wouldn’t change for anything. Thing that are better than they were when I was an Alpha.”

“Like what? What could possibly be better?”

“I always believed in true mates, for one things, but I never found her, the Beta woman I thought was supposed to be my true mate. And that’s because I would have never even looked twice at my true mate, seeing as he was a short, hairy Alpha. And being pregnant. That’s pretty awesome and it would have never happened to me as an Alpha.”

“You have kids?” Dean asked, stunned, because while he knew Kevin had been a fully qualified nurse for at least a couple years, the kid looked like he couldn’t be more than a year or two out of high school.

“Will have,” Kevin said, with a grin. “Just past the first trimester. I should start showing any time now.” 

Of course, that was one of Dean’s nightmare scenarios, getting knocked up, now that he could, but Kevin just seemed to freaking happy about it Dean couldn’t help but be happy for him. 

“That’s great,” he said, and he meant it. “Just great. Another little you wandering around the world will be awesome. So. Uh. My. Um. New thingee.”

“Your vagina?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, that. So, is there some kind of owner’s manual I should read or something?”

“The center library is full of books that are helpful. You’ve just been avoiding that section. I can recommend a couple of the best. We don’t keep anything really awful or untruthful or misleading though.”

Dean was pretty sure he couldn’t talk about these changes his body was making, especially not with Doc Novak or any other Alpha, no matter how kind the Alpha was, but maybe he could read something about it all, take it at his own pace. It seemed pretty clear this wasn’t going away and he needed to get a handle on it. He could admit it, maybe. He had a vagina. Presumably all the decorative stuff on the outside too. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take a look though he knew he probably should.

He’d always liked pussy, the soft folds of skin hiding between the legs, hidden and sweet. He liked them best when the owner didn’t shave, so there was a curly cloud of hair around them, like a protection for the vulnerable inner parts. He’d loved the way each of them was different, in shape, size, smell, even in how much was hidden, how much was easily revealed. He’d loved teasing them with fingers, gently parting them, coaxing them to wetness and their owners to shivering, shuddering orgasms. He’d loved eating them, the salty sweet taste of it, the feel on his tongue. Now, all of that was lost to him. He was the one that would someday be coaxed, eaten. He was now, by nature, expected to be passive, receptive. 

“Kevin, does every Omega have to end up with an Alpha?” He asked. He’d never known an Omega, other than the ones here at the center with him, who wasn’t with a Alpha, but that might just be something no one ever talked about. 

“No, of course not,” Kevin said. “It’s not common. Most of the Alphas that transition into Omegas end up oriented to wanting an Alpha, but I know a few Omegas who end up mated to other Omegas and one guy, he ended up married to a Beta woman. They can’t have kids together, but not everyone wants to.”

“How does that even work? I mean, his cock doesn’t work any more, right? So how does the magic happen?”

“I have no clue what they do in bed and I don’t want to know. Ugh. It’s my mom and my stepfather. But dude, first, your cock should still work just fine. You don’t have a knot anymore and it doesn’t get a big as it used to, but you should be getting hard ons. If you don’t, tell Cas, please. That’s one of those things he needs to know and he would have asked, but you keep cutting him off. Second, you need to get over this idea that knot and/or cock plus hole equals sex, right? Once you get over that, the world is full of possibilities.”

“I should be getting hard-ons?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “On the regular.”

“And it’s a problem if I don’t.”

“It could mean a lot of things, but yes, it could be.”

“I think I need to talk to Doc Novak again,” Dean said, stomach clenching. Not that today’s lunch had been great shakes, other than maybe the turkey casserole thing, but he couldn’t eat another bite. Something was wrong with him. Because he definitely hadn’t gotten a stiffie since before he noticed the whole transition thing starting. His junk, such as was left of it, was broken. It was fitting. It was broken just like the rest of him. 

“I’ll let him know. I’m sure he’ll be able to squeeze you in again this afternoon.”

It was much later that afternoon. Apparently this was one of the days that Doc Novak went to Dr. Loki’s clinic and saw patients there. But he came back to the center at a time when most people were calling it a day and going home for the night, just to see Dean. 

Dean was back in the exam room. The gown was sitting next to him, draped over a chair. He wouldn’t put it on though he’d been told to. When Novak walked in, he started to back out. 

“You’re not ready. I’ll give you another moment,” he said.

“No, Doc, I was hoping we could talk without me being on my back, with my legs spread in the dress thing. It’s kind of off putting.”

He wouldn’t say that it made him feel vulnerable. Dean Winchester did not do vulnerable. 

Novak nodded and looked a little surprised, “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been told my people skills are rusty. Yes, we can certainly talk about your concerns without you wearing the examination gown. If the circumstances warrant, I may have to examine you, but for now, let’s take a seat over there.”

Novak indicated the sofa and chair. This was the strangest but most comfortable doctor’s office Dean had ever been in. Most of them were little cubicles with just enough room for the table. This was the result of the parlor of a Victorian mansion being converted into an examination room without being cut into smaller rooms first. 

Dean started right away, thinking if he didn’t just get it out, he might not have the courage.

“So, Kevin says I should be getting hard ons again by now and I haven’t. It just kind of feels like that part of me is dead, you know. What if it is dead? Like, what if I can’t even turn into an Omega right and the change is going wrong? What if I’m broken?”

Doc Novak frowned, then spoke, “Physically, at least, everything appears to be normal and your transition is going fine. Have you felt arousal at all? Perhaps felt an urge, but did not get an erection?”

Dean shook his head.

“The most likely issue is the anti-depressant,” Novak said. “One of the unfortunate, common side effects of the one I prescribed to you is a loss of sexual desire. Let’s try adjusting your medications again and see where we go from there.”


End file.
